The Italian's Inherited Mistress

Alissandru grinned down at her with outrageous satisfaction. ‘I love a passionate woman,’ he told her thickly. ‘You match me every step of the way.’

Isla was in a daze of shattered satiation as he shifted lithely over her and lifted her legs to increase his access to her still-thrumming body. She was reeling with disconcertion at what he had done and what she had felt and even then she was questioning what they were doing when he was supposed to have concussion.

‘Do you feel all right?’ she asked abruptly.

‘In a few minutes I will feel one hell of a lot better,’ Alissandru asserted with unquenchable certainty, and she felt the powerful surge of him against her swollen entrance.

There wasn’t time for her to tense because he sank into her with raw energy and suddenly he was where she had never felt anyone before and he was thrusting deep and hard. She flung her head back and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as discomfort mutated into a sharp stab of pain but not a whisper of sound escaped her. The instant she registered that the worst was over, her body made her more aware of other sensations, stretching to accommodate his invasion and the deeply satisfying burn of him where she ached for more. And once he set up a fluid rhythm, deep down inside her muscles began to clench and tiny ripples of growing need assailed her.

‘You are so tight and hot,’ Alissandru growled thickly, dark eyes sheer gold enticement in the firelight casting flickering shadows across the walls and the bed.

Her hips rose to meet his because finally she was part of something, fully involved and sentient and wanting, wanting so much she could hardly contain it. The driving need to reach the same plateau again consumed her as he speeded up, his every lithe invasion feeding her hunger while her heart raced insanely fast. The tension inside her knotted and knotted ever tighter until he sent her flying again and the wild excitement and hot, sweet pleasure rolled over her again in wave after wave, leaving her limp and weak as he shuddered over her with his own release.

‘That was spectacular,’ Alissandru muttered raggedly in the aftermath, rolling off her but carrying her with him and keeping both arms wrapped around her so that she sprawled on top of him, drenched in the hot, already familiar scent of him.

And she had no regrets, Isla recognised in a stark instant of clarity as she pressed her lips sleepily to a broad brown shoulder. Alissandru had made her feel truly alive for the first time in months and she felt gloriously relaxed and warm and safe. More troubled thoughts tried to nudge at her but she was far too sleepy to let them in. There would be time enough in the morning to consider what she had done but, just at that moment, she didn’t want to torment herself with what she couldn’t change.

He was attracted to her but he would never love her. Well, that was life, she told herself drowsily, giving with one hand, taking with the other. It still struck her as better than what she had had before.

* * *

She woke up very early and slid out of bed, flinching at the tenderness of her body. She tugged out the case below the bed with care, careful not to make too much noise as she extracted warm clothes to take into the bathroom with her. But she didn’t leave the room until she had taken her fill of looking at Alissandru while he slept. His face was roughened with dark stubble, his black hair very dark against the bedding while the long golden sweep of his muscular back was a masculine work of art. Carelessly sprawled across the bed, he looked utterly gorgeous and impossibly sexy. He was out of her league, totally out of her league, she told herself as she washed and dressed in the bathroom, hurrying downstairs to let out the dogs and feed the hens.

She would also have to take some hay out to the sheep in their shelter because the snow was probably too deep for them to forage. Wrapped up against the cold, she took care of the livestock first, trudging through the snow to the barn for the hay and driving the old tractor as close to the pasture as she could get so that she could heft the hay into the sheep shelter with greater ease.

By the time she finished her chores, however, her shoulders and back were aching and she was breathing heavily and hoping the snow wouldn’t last long because snow made everything twice as much work.

When she walked back indoors, it was an intense relief to shed her outdoor clothing and let her face and hands defrost close to the fire she had banked up the night before, and which she now revived. Steps overhead and the creak of the stairs warned her that Alissandru was about to join her, and she turned her head with a shy smile, not quite sure how to greet him in the light of day and reality. Like a lover? Like a friend? Like a relative? There was no etiquette rule that covered what had taken place between them the night before.

‘Isla...’ Alissandru came to a halt at the foot of the stairs and studied her, his lean, strong face clenching hard. ‘We have to talk.’

‘I’ll make breakfast,’ Isla proffered readily, keen to make herself busy and pretty much unnerved by the grim brooding expression tautening his dark devastating features. He had put his suit back on and, even unshaven, he looked like a super-sleek businessman again, expensive and detached.

‘Thank you, but I haven’t got time for breakfast...perhaps a coffee?’ Alissandru suggested smoothly. ‘The helicopter is picking me up in about fifteen minutes. Where were you?’

‘Feeding the sheep and the hens,’ she explained, putting on the kettle, shaken that he was leaving so immediately while anxiously wondering what he planned to talk about. Puggle was showing a worrying tendency to prowl around Alissandru’s feet while growling threateningly and she shooed him away.

Having ignored the dog’s ridiculous moves entirely—for how intimidating did something barely six inches tall think it could be—Alissandru withdrew a folded document from the pocket of his suit jacket, straightened it out and settled it down on the table. ‘The details of your inheritance. All you need to do is contact the solicitor and give him your current address and you will receive your bequest. Paulu, I should warn you, also left you his house in Sicily on the family estate...if you are agreeable, I would like to buy that back from you as it should stay with my family.’

Isla studied him in dismay, disconcerted that he had plunged straight into the impersonal matter of his brother’s will. ‘I’ll think about that,’ she murmured, playing for time, barely able to comprehend the concept of becoming the owner of a property abroad when she had never owned a house before. But she did receive his strong hint that he didn’t want her using that house on the Rossetti estate and that made her feel uncomfortable and distinctly rejected.

With hands that shook a little with nerves, she prepared coffee for them both. She had shared a bed with Alissandru last night and that was no big deal in the modern world, she reminded herself firmly. She needed to wise up and expect less. Alissandru only had a few minutes before he had to leave and naturally he would be keen to get the business aspect of Paulu’s bequest dealt with first.

‘Do you want to discuss the sale of the house now?’ Alissandru asked quietly, watching her like a hawk, hopeful she would grab at that option and agree an immediate deal.

For someone dressed like a homeless waif, she contrived to look astonishingly pretty, he acknowledged reluctantly. The cold had forced colour into her cheeks and blown her vibrant hair into a wild curly mop. She fiddled with a stray curl nervously and her sparkling dark blue eyes clung to him. Alissandru studied his coffee instead, keen to move on fast and without fanfare from his monumental error of judgement the night before. He had made a mistake, well, in truth, several mistakes, but there was no need to dwell on that unwelcome reality.

‘No, let’s leave the house aside for the moment,’ Isla suggested unevenly, sitting down opposite him. ‘I’m sure all that can be dealt with at some more convenient time.’

‘Isla...?’ Alissandru hesitated. ‘Last night was a blunder on my part.’

‘A...blunder?’ she framed and then paled. ‘You mean, a mistake?’

Alissandru lifted his chin in acknowledgement. ‘I wasn’t playing with a full deck. The concussion and the discussion we had about my brother put me in a weird frame of mind.’

Isla stiffened. ‘You kissed me before you bashed your head. Are you saying I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable?’ she asked in angry mortification.